PS I Hate You
by pearlchavez
Summary: I wasn’t with Chad Dylan Cooper when he died. No one was...


**Author's Note: So I was watching P.S. I Love You, when I got this idea. It's not really the same plot, but I don't think it's something that's ever been explored, so this is my attempt at a fic without Chad. Did you ever think you would see the day? Tell me what you guys think!**

I wasn't with Chad Dylan Cooper when he died. No one was. It happened so fast; like a train whizzing by. He died when people were rushing to him, and it was an image that haunted me. The thought of him lying all alone in the pristine white bed, his body battered and bruised after the car crash that would inevitably take his life in the end.

It was Marshall who told us the next morning. I was a little late to work that day after sleeping in for the first time since I moved to California. Not that I would admit it, but I thought of Chad when I parked my car and made my way into the back entrance, basking in the hot sun I still wasn't used to. He would probably be waiting to bug me the moment I stepped through the door. Although I would never tell him; I looked forward to it everyday, and I was actually disappointed when he wasn't waiting for me.

When I walked into the Prop House, the Randoms looked like they had all seen a ghost, including Marshall; it wasn't the best idea for me to be thinking of Family Guy as I walked in. I felt desperately out of place with a grin on my face and a small laugh erupting.

"Who died?" I asked jokingly. They all looked at me like I had just said the most offensive thing ever, and that was when I started worry.

"Actually Sonny-" Marshall began.

"Someone died?" I asked, subconsciously counting the cast members in front of me. We were all here, was it Bitterman? Oh, don't tell me it was Josh. He hated his job, but he was planning on making it big as a comic book artist. I hoped he wasn't dead after he shared those thoughts with me. It wouldn't have been fair if a talent like his was wasted.

"It was Chad," Marshall told me softly.

"What was Chad?" I asked. Maybe I didn't want to believe it.

"Chad was in a car accident last night," he told me. "He didn't make it."

That was the day everything fell apart. The day I went numb. I sat down on the sofa, my hands covering my mouth and my head spinning. He wasn't serious. He couldn't be serious. No, no, no. Chad couldn't be dead. He had to be there to annoy me. Where the hell was he to prove Marshall wrong? Where was that smug and arrogant expression on his face, his honey blonde hair and those deep blue eyes? Why wasn't he in here yet? He was the first person who would be denying his death. He always said that a world without Chad Dylan Cooper would be empty and no one should be subjected to that. Where was he now when people actually thought he was gone?

"No he didn't," I sneered, shaking my head. "Come on Marshall, where is he?"

"Sonny-" Tawni began.

"Are you sure he's not just slept in?" I asked, still laughing. Where was he? "He's not dead. Who made that silly rumour up? It was James, wasn't it?"

"Look," Tawni turned on the TV, and there it was. It was all over the screen; TWEEN HEARTTHROB KILLED IN DEADLY CAR ACCIDENT!!!

At first I kept on blinking, just to make sure that I wasn't dreaming, and I pinched myself a hundred times, but I kept on seeing the same thing on screen. Chad Dylan Cooper had died earlier that evening. The only night I had gone to bed at nine pm and not resurfaced until the morning. My head was spinning again and I felt this overwhelming sense of nausea. It couldn't be true. I know I hated the guy, but I didn't wish death upon him. Chad was actually dead? He was young. He was only eighteen and he was still on The Falls. He couldn't have been dead. He hadn't lived his life yet. He hadn't did all the things that he always said he would do. Why would God kill someone who still had so much to give?

"He's dead," I muttered, looking at Tawni. "Oh my God, he's really dead."

No matter how much I said it, I didn't want to believe it. I prayed for him to walk through that door and prove everyone wrong. Maybe it was all a publicity stunt? Please God, let it be a publicity stunt, I pleaded, but he still wasn't coming through the door. Where was he? Where was he in his usual Falls attire. I still hadn't told him that I liked him in that suit.

"Are you okay kid?" Marshall asked me. Was I okay? Was he seriously dead? Because if he was seriously dead, then that meant that I was anything but okay. If he was dead, that meant the world had ended. He lit it up, and now he was gone.

"He's dead," I repeated. "He's really dead, isn't he?" I don't know why I kept on asking whether he was dead. The image of the totalled car and Chad's picture kept on flashing on screen as well as tributes from his legion of fans. Girls were crying in the street, and Mothers. Their faces were filled with loss and devastation, like he had been a family member. Yet I felt nothing.

"We know you guys talked," Nico told me, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"He's gone," I said. I didn't know what else to say. It just didn't stick every time I said it. Maybe it was because he wasn't really dead. I knew Chad so well, and maybe he was subconsciously trying to tell me that he was still alive. That was why I was in denial…I was going mad. That was the only explanation for it. He was gone. And when I said it to myself, it was as if someone was tearing out a huge part of me, piece by piece, and leaving me bleeding in agony.

"I know," Grady nodded, sitting down beside me. Tawni looked on with concern, but she didn't know what to do in this situation. She looked as in denial as I was. He was really gone. He was really never going to walk through those doors again. I was never going to hear that arrogant and ignorant voice of his. He was never going to smirk at me again. We were never going to talk again. The last time I spoke to him was less than a day before. But that was it. Why didn't anyone warn me? I would have said more than I did, and I definitely wouldn't have told him that he acted worse than Jessica Simpson.

"Okay, so why don't we get to work?" I suggested, switching off the TV. I didn't know what else to do; if I cried I would never stop, and I didn't want to cry and never stop. The pain was begging me to cry and it hurt very badly, but if I pretended it was fine, I could numb it just a little. It was more painful than the time I broke my wrist. In fact, I would gladly break my wrist if it would send this new unwelcome pain away. This new unwelcome pain could fuck off.

"Sonny, the studio's going to be closed for the day," Marshall said, and he spoke to me like a child. He spoke to me like I didn't understand the reality of the situation. "Sweetheart, I know that this is a lot to take in, but it's okay to be a little upset."

"I know what's happened," I insisted, nodding my head. I smiled a little, and I was amazed that I was able to smile without the agonising pain forcing it back to a frown. "I'm upset, but he wouldn't want me to be miserable. No, that's the last thing that he would want. Did you say the studio was closed today?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Then I should probably go home then, huh?" I asked him.

"Yeah, you can, but-"

"Okay so I'll see you all later," I said, walking out of the doors. I couldn't have stayed in there any longer. I ran to my car and the moment I was inside, I started gasping for air. I felt like I couldn't breathe, no, it felt like I was refusing to breathe. I looked up at his pretentious poster next to my own. He would never be returning to the studio again. Ever. I last saw Chad Dylan Cooper wave to me as he stepped into his car. I would have given anything for a better final memory. I didn't know what exactly I wanted our last moment to be, but there was so much that I wanted to say to him.

I slept to make the pain go away, but it wouldn't. It stayed with me, and I feared that it was eating me up on the inside. I didn't want to watch TV. I refused to listen to music, because every song reminded me of Chad Dylan Cooper. Turning on the light made me insistent that I could see him in my room. I convinced myself that he was hiding in my room to get away from it all. I even convinced myself that I could hear him laughing and poking fun at me, but it wasn't him. I was surrounded by nothing but the sound of silence. I was consumed by my own thoughts. I dreamt of the crash and I saw him screaming for me, and it forced me to sit up straight. So I didn't sleep.

"I'm sorry about your friend Chad," Mom told me the next morning.

"I'm okay Mom," I told her, pushing the magazines away from our coffee table. Everything about popular culture reminded me of him. If I couldn't see him, then he wasn't really dead. "I didn't know him very well, did I?"

"I thought you guys were sort of friends?" She said, looking at me curiously. The blinding pain in my torso was intensifying with every minute of her stare, so I forced myself to look away. She finally stopped. "The funeral is next week. I don't mind going if you want-"

"I didn't know him very well," I shrugged my shoulders. "I won't go."

"But he was a colleague," she told me, frowning. "It would be polite for you to go. Sweetie, no one will ridicule you if you cry. I'm sure the Randoms will be a little upset too."

"Mom, I'm okay," I insisted, gritting my teeth. I had to be okay.

I spent the next week in my bedroom distracting myself. I didn't sleep, and I only ate because Mom would have thought there was something wrong with me if I didn't eat. I couldn't sleep either, because I either dreamed of him, or thought he was lying right next to me when I woke up. When I nestled into his arms the night before, I was only nestling into my pillow. Why did I even want to nestle into his arms? Just because he was dead I was supposed to admit my undying love for him? That wasn't going to happen.

Tawni came to visit me the day before the funeral. I was painting something; it wasn't anything particular yet, but the colours distracted me for a while. I'd been reading, but then the words started looking too familiar. He had said them all and now I was reading voiceless words. The words didn't seem to have as much passion and emphasis unless he said them. He would never say another word again. He'd also worn every colour I painted, so my new hobby wouldn't last.

"We're all going to the funeral tomorrow," she told me as I painted some more. "I think black actually suits me. It brings out the blonde in my hair. Trust me to realise that going to Chad's funeral. You can bet he'll be bragging to everyone up there that he influenced Tawni Hart's fashion choice."

"Take a picture for me," I told her softly. "I'm not going."

"Why not?" She asked me, looking confused. "You liked him more than us. It won't look bad or anything; his death has shocked everyone. Sonny, it's okay to say that you miss him."

"I didn't know him well or anything!" I snapped, painting a little more furiously. The canvas was black, and I could feel the paint splattering on my chin. "Why are you going to the funeral? You never gave a shit in the first place! None of us did! We all hated him! He was great enough to see us everyday, but no one appreciated it! Why the hell are we appreciating him now when he's dead?! He wouldn't want the fuss!"

"You know that you'll regret going," she told me softly, and she reluctantly, put her hand on top of mine and forced me to stop what I was doing and look her straight in the eye. "Sonny, this isn't easy for me to do, but I know that you're sad. We are all sad, because he's gone and no one wanted that. No one despised him that much. It's okay to say you miss him. It's okay to say that you miss him as more than his friend. We know Sonny; I can't even imagine what you're going through."

"Nothing has to change," I insisted, and I had to keep convincing myself of that as well. A part of me wanted to scream out loud and paint everything black, but I had managed to numb the blinding pain inside of me. I wasn't about to resurrect it. "He wouldn't want it to change."

She went to the funeral. I didn't.

I didn't sleep either. I stared at my ceiling, his face going through my mind like it did every night. A part of me just wanted to stop breathing, to stop thinking and to stop thinking. If I didn't do either of those things, then I wouldn't be forced to think about what was happening. Chad Dylan Cooper was gone and I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.

"I'll wait for you," I whispered to the empty room. "As long as I need to."

I returned to work a month later, the same as everyone else. Mr Condor and Dakota needed sufficient time to grieve, as did Chad's cast mates and my own cast mates. When I walked into the Prop House that day something was missing. Everyone was there and things seemed to go back to normal, but it felt like there was something missing. They were all laughing and they didn't seem to notice it. I tried to join in, because I certainly wasn't going to decide to break my silence now. I didn't even know how I felt, because I had blocked it out. I had moved on from painting to heavy mind blowing metal music. I played it so loud that I couldn't even think straight. His smug smirk disappeared for a little while. When it came back, I just put the music on again.

It was after we were done rehearsing a sketch, I decided to visit Chad's dressing room. Shortly before he…passed, he gave me a key. The irony was that he gave me it in case he was dying in there and the door was locked. When I clutched the key, I swear I could still feel his hands on it. The members of The Falls would return the next day. They insisted we had to be in first, because they had to grieve longer. It was fine with me, because I could sneak into his dressing room without fear of being caught.

Nothing had changed. His Falls uniform was still lying draped across the leather chair he sat on to beautify himself all day. There were still framed portraits next to the mirror, and photos of him with his favourite celebrities. The place still smelled of him. I sat down on the chair and I thought I could feel his shape within the chair. I thought that I could feel him all around me. For a second, I thought I saw him staring back at me through the mirror.

I picked up his tie and sniffed it. It smelled of him, down to his peppermint breath. I held it close to me, and I could feel my heart racing. I hadn't been around something that reminded me of him in so long. I took the tie home with me. It was the only thing I had, and the only thing no one would see missing.

I slept with it under my pillow, and when I woke up, he was lying right beside me. He looked at me with the same smirk he had everyday. He was absolutely fine; he didn't have a scratch on him, and I was forced to smile.

"Do you know the fuss that you're causing?" I asked him, giggling a little.

"Yep," he nodded his head. "And I must say Munroe, I feel flattered. Sure, I don't have as much flowers as Princess Di or anything, but my God, the world sure realises that Chad Dylan Cooper is gone."

"You'll be back though, right?" I asked him. I shuddered a little when I felt his ice cold hand brush my cheek, but it felt nice. A part of me had always wanted him to touch me like that. A part of me hated it when we didn't kiss. "We're not finished yet."

"I know," he nodded. "I left without hearing you say that you want me more than anyone."

"Really Chad, really?" I asked, mimicking his tone, and he laughed a little. "You have to admit though, you must miss me a little bit too."

"Are you kidding? You do know that Marilyn Monroe is up here with me, right?" He chuckled, taking my hand. He squeezed it tightly, and even though I was shivering, I couldn't have been happier. "Okay, do you want the truth, or what?"

"What is the truth?" I asked him, wrapping my arms around him.

"The truth is that we were always more than friends," he confessed, but it was something I already knew. The pain had struck me like a plague, and I don't think I would have felt so desolate and in such agony if he was just my friend. "I always wanted to be a little more with you."

"Yeah," I nodded, as he kissed my hand. "Me too."

"And I am pissed off that I can't ever do it now," he sighed, holding me close to him, his hair reflecting as if the sun were shining. His whole body was glowing, despite being so cold. "Munroe, I am probably the best that you would have had, but you'll never know."

"But I still hate you," I giggled, embracing him. It felt wonderful when he stroked my hair and breathed softly, sending chills down my spine.

"Oh yeah, definitely," he smirked, looking me deep in the eyes. "I'll wait for you. As long as I need to. When you come, I'll be here for you."

I was about to kiss him again when I sat up straight. I looked around me and he was gone. It was a dream, yet I could still feel his breath on my cheeks. My heart was still racing and I was still out of breath. I felt like I had been awake the whole time. I lay back down and didn't sleep the rest of the night. I waited for him to come back, but he didn't.

The next day at work, I kept on feeling his presence around me. Everything sounded like I was underwater. Everything looked like I was in darkness. When someone spoke to me, it sounded like they were far away, and I could only give one word answers. I walked around a lot.

I was going to return his tie to his dressing room when I saw a room door open. I shouldn't have been so curious, but I was. I walked and stood at the wall next to the room, listening to what they were saying. Were they talking about Chad? Every time I heard his name, it left me breathless, and I wanted to be breathless again. I leaned against the wall, consuming myself with thoughts of him.

"Well Jamie, that was a very good audition," the producer of The Falls said, and it sounded clearer to me than people who had spoken to me face to face. "But the character of Mackenzie is so much more intense than what you're giving us."

My mind could only see red. Did they just say Mackenzie? My head was spinning; they were auditioning for the next Chad Dylan Cooper. He was really gone, and they were moving on. I saw the list of names on the door and it made me feel ill. They were looking for golden haired boys to take the place of the only person in the world who could play Mackenzie. No one could be Mackenzie except Chad. The blinding pain returned to me stronger than ever. It was bursting out of my head and my stomach and I felt compelled to say something. How dare they? He hadn't been gone long at all and they were already talking about replacing him?! They couldn't replace him! What if he came back one day?! What would they do then?! What if Chad decided that being dead wasn't for him and returned?! He was Chad Dylan Cooper! He could do anything! He could come back from the dead if he wanted to! I wanted him to!

"Hi Sonny," the producer of Mackenzie Falls smiled nervously, but I was in no mood for social niceties. I glanced at the boy auditioning, and I scoffed. He didn't even look like Chad! How could they think that he could even replace him? He was irreplaceable! Especially by this pretty boy!

"You're auditioning for a new Mackenzie?" I asked, attempting to remain calm.

"Unfortunately so," he sighed. "Life goes on Miss Munroe, and as much as Chad Dylan Cooper was a talent on this earth, the show must go on."

"He's barely been dead two months!" I spat. "And you're all acting like he's been gone forever! This is his show! Jamie here doesn't have the guts to be Mackenzie! He's far too nice! Chad wasn't nice! Chad hated us all, I bet Jamie doesn't hate the Randoms!"

"Wouldn't it be easier that way?" He asked, and I could tell by his expression that he was increasingly concerned about me.

"NO IT WOULDN'T WORK!" I screamed, my eyes looking wild. "CHAD HATES US! THIS GUY DOES NOT HATE US! IT'S DIFFERENT WHEN MACKENZIE LIKES US! MACKENZIE CAN'T LIKE US!"

"Sonny, you need to calm down."

"Do I?!" I cried furiously, my eyes welling up with tears. I'm not even sure I was talking any longer. The blinding pain within me had taken on a life of its own and saying everything I ever wanted to say. "He's not coming in anymore! I will never hear his voice again! I will never see him again! He'll never say he hates me ever again! And you want me to calm down?! Chad Dylan Cooper will never…" I couldn't continue, because I had burst into tears. The guy auditioning for Mackenzie pulled out a seat for me and helped me sit down. I felt a little guilty about insulting him.

Tawni immediately rushed in and sat down beside me, taking both my hands. She didn't say anything, and instead soothed me, and wrapped both her arms around me.

"I hate him so much Tawni!" I wailed. "I wasn't ready to say goodbye! There was so much that I still had to say to him! He died without knowing any of it!"

"No, he knew," she insisted. "He knew that you cared."

"Who gives a crap if he knew?! I didn't know anything!" I cried, unable to control my sobs. "I miss him Tawni! I have always wanted to tell him all of these things and now I can't, because he's gone! I hate it so much! Why did I meet him if he was only going to be in my life for a little while?!"

"People come and go Sonny," she told me softly. I couldn't believe that death was really her forte. She was being so selfless and I didn't appreciate it. "Sometimes people aren't in your life a long time, but they still leave a mark.

"I hate him so much," I sobbed. "I really do."

"I know," she soothed. "But you're going to be okay."

"How do you know?" I asked her, looking at her for an honest answer. The blinding pain was so agonising it was unimaginable, but I was relieved. I could have cried for a long time, and I did, but if I had built it up any longer, then it could have been worse.

"You're Sonny Munroe," she told me, smiling a little. "He loved you for a reason. You're going to be okay. I know it hurts now, and you don't think you'll get over it. You will always miss him, but it will get easier. I promise you."

"I don't want it to get easier," I whispered, wiping my eyes. "I don't want to forget."

"You won't," she insisted, shaking her head. "Why don't you come with me to see the grave? It's so morbid, but it really does the trick.

"Okay," I agreed, as she helped me to my feet. My head was still spinning, but the pain was beginning to ease just a little bit. "I still hate him, you know."

"Some things never change," she replied, smiling and putting her arm around me. She was right, and I hoped it never did change.

THE END


End file.
